The Things They Lost
by sabotouri
Summary: She waited. Six years, but she waited nonetheless.


It took six years.

Six long years.

She waited, partially because she knew he'd come back, but mostly because she didn't know what else to do. Eight months after the inception, she'd graduated and started working for a well-known architect in New York City, designing buildings that wowed everyone else, but left her feeling empty and unfulfilled.

She'd heard rumors she'd find him there, and by rumors, she meant Eames saying to her, "You know who else lives here?"

Six years passed and it changed her. Her face had lined with worry and sleepless nights. Six years of experiences that never once included dream sharing again.

Yusuf and Saito were never heard from again, not that she'd expected it. When the businessman died unexpectedly of a heart attack five years later, they'd all traveled to Kyoto for his funeral.

Dressed in black and white, she stood with Eames and Cobb, a child holding each hand, and said a silent prayer for the tourist, father and husband they'd lost.

A month later, she received a short letter from Eames, letting her know that he would be in the city and wanted to see her.

Their visit was cut short of sentiment and filled with a half-appreciated and quickly forgotten tryst. He had left her bed before she awoke, leaving behind a simple note:

"Next year."

She moved on, trudging through her daily life, gaining recognition in the architecture community for her avant-garde dwellings, never respecting the confines of dreamless building again.

It was exactly six years later that he showed up.

She was sure she was dreaming when she answered the door. Six years had aged him, the circles under his eyes finding a permanent home, but there he was, dressed to the nines, all business and stoicism.

They'd talked for hours, managing to say nothing of importance until she finally broke the fourth wall, questioning his absence.

He told her the truth, that his job was done with Cobb left the plane. He had moved on, married and divorced, and was now living in New York City as a consultant.

He told her that he knew Eames had seen her and knew what had happened and though she was blushing, she was triumphant, glad that the niggling had gotten to him enough to mention it.

Then she was on him, not caring that the suit she was crushing between her fingers probably cost more than her monthly income, all lips and lust. He didn't reciprocate, not at first, but he definitely didn't resist, his hands resting on her hips.

She tore at his coat, popping buttons in her haste, and when his name slipped from her mouth, he lost it, that façade, falling into her with abandon.

In her dreams, it had been sweet, almost cinematic, but in her reality, he was rough, tugging her into bed, biting at her neck. His hand was down her pants, fingers working at swollen skin and all she could think of was how pissed she was that it had taken so long.

A game of subtraction lost their clothes and suddenly, he was pushing into her, not asking if she was ready, not caring. He groaned into her shoulder, twisting his fingers into her hair, pulling her head back. Her nails were digging into his back, drawing blood, and _fuck_, it was amazing.

His thrusts turned hard, rocking the hardwood bed against the wall with a satisfying 'thud' that she hoped her asshole neighbors heard. Her hands were held together in one of his, pinned over her heard, like she was going to move anyway.

Sweat beads on his forehead, his skin slick with effort and through hazy eyes, she can see his face beginning to flush. Not that she needed encouragement, but it was enough to start her begging for more, please God, just a little more.

He comes first, moaning her name against her breast and for Christ's sake, it's the most gorgeous thing she's ever heard. The breath is knocked from her when she finishes, twisting beneath him like some kind of animal and then it's still and quiet.

The rhythmic pounding of their hearts eventually syncs up and at some point, the fall asleep, still touching. She awakes the next morning and out of the corner of her eye sees the red die resting next to the toppled bishop and that's good enough for her.

He's gone already, but it doesn't matter. Tangled in her sheets, she reaches out and grabs the totems, happy to be the keeper of his reality.


End file.
